


Encounters in the Ancient City

by valda



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beach, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Rape Fantasy, Self-Hatred, Slurs, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unsafe Sex, lots of details about St. Augustine Florida
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2019-09-13 00:30:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 14,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16882203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valda/pseuds/valda
Summary: Two chance meetings in St. Augustine, Florida lead to a strange yet powerful bond, simple and overwhelming and perfect, except when it isn't.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The first nineteen parts of this story were originally posted to Tumblr. Each of those parts is backdated to its original post date. Some of the chapters were written in response to summer prompts from the Kylux Cantina. The story moved here after Tumblr's shortsighted, foolish NSFW ban, which harmed the communities that needed the platform the most.

Armitage and his father had a disagreement about hats this morning.

“No son of mine,” Father said, waving a thick finger in Armitage’s face, “will be seen in public or private wearing  _that_.”

_That_ was a sunhat with a brim wide enough to protect Armitage’s face and neck from the blistering St. Augustine sun. He winces against the brightness now, sunglasses not quite enough to block out the glare. Father said he could wear an Army baseball cap. Armitage turned up his nose. He regrets it; anything would be better than the way the sun is beating down on his bare head.

It’s especially bad here at the Castillo de San Marcos, which would offer little by way of shade even if Armitage wasn’t up on the gun deck. Centuries-old coquina masonry lies hot beneath his sneakers—another concession to Father, who flung the sandals Armitage brought into the hotel trash can—and there are no trees or towers, just the broad, flat expanse of stone that forms the barbed square profile of the aged fort.

He steps away from where Father is examining one of the cannon to look out across the water, willing an ocean breeze to wash up and cut through the oppressive heat. After a moment, one mercifully does, and he closes his eyes and sighs at the feeling of the cool air against his sweat-slick skin.

“It’s pretty hot, huh?” someone suddenly says from right next to him, voice deep and low right up until the last word, upon which it cracks spectacularly.

A frown twitches at Armitage’s lips. He opens his eyes and turns his head slowly to discover a gangly-looking kid standing next to him—a kid who has somehow managed to surpass Armitage’s own considerable height, and whose shoulders are far broader, all despite the fact that he’s obviously far younger. Armitage allows the frown to settle in.

“I’m Ben,” the kid says, sticking out an enormous hand.

Armitage looks at Ben’s hand, then back at his weirdly compelling face, but makes no move to accept the handshake.

“What’s your name?” the kid asks stubbornly. He has huge brown eyes and wide red lips, and his hair is so dark it might be black, wavy curls amplified by the humidity.

Armitage sniffs. “None of your—”

“ _Armitage_!” Father shouts, and Armitage can’t help but jerk a bit in surprise. He quickly schools his expression to neutral, turning just as Father charges up and steps between him and the kid. “With me,” Father says, and he clamps a meaty hand around Armitage’s bicep and shoves him back toward the cannon.

“What—” Armitage says as they come to a stop, but Father is grabbing him by the back of the neck now, dragging him close and snarling in his ear.

“You will not indulge in your…your  _deviancy_ on this trip,” Father hisses.

Armitage goes cold. “I’m twenty,” he says. “You can’t—”

“I can, and I will. You will not drag the Hux family name through the bloody dirt.” Father increases the pressure against Armitage’s neck, then lets go with a shove that makes Armitage stumble. “Now pay attention. They’re about to fire the cannon.”

Armitage hopes he is keeping his face blank. He can’t actually tell. His hands are in trembling fists.

As the historical reenactor begins talking the gathered tourists through the cannon-firing process, Armitage feels keenly that he is being watched. He turns his head just enough to see. Sure enough, it’s Ben, sitting on the low stone wall of the gun deck, staring at him.

Before he can think better of it, Armitage is drawing his notebook out of his pocket and scribbling furiously on a blank page. His heart races, blood pounding in his ears. He looks up at Ben meaningfully as he tears the page out, folds it into a compact square. He glances around to be sure no one but Ben is watching. Then he lets the folded paper fall to the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben finds Armitage.

Armitage yawns. He is stretched out on a collapsible beach chair, eyes shut against the sun. Again he is hatless, but this time he’s shirtless as well, sunning himself in nothing but a pair of swim briefs that sit low on his hips and leave his legs completely bare.

He’s been here for ten minutes, enough time for the heat to thoroughly soak in, and he’s bored, even as a sort of nervous energy flutters in his stomach.

“Hey,” comes a too-casual voice from above him, and Armitage smiles. Right on time.

“Hello, Ben,” Armitage says, shading his eyes as he opens them to look up, and up, and up at the boy standing beside his lounger. He hasn’t asked how old Ben is—ideally, it won’t be relevant—but he’s almost certainly a kid, far from grown into his height. Armitage is slim, but Ben is gawky, all knees and elbows and feet and nose and ears. “You found me.”

“I found you,” Ben repeats, a nervous grin dimpling his cheeks.

“There’s something I was hoping you could help me with,” Armitage says.

“What is it?”

Armitage levers himself onto his side for a moment, just long enough for Ben to get a good look, then turns again to rest on his stomach, hands folded beneath his head. “My back,” he says, shifting his hips a bit as if getting comfortable and watching the movement draw Ben’s eyes to his arse. “It needs sunscreen.”

“I–Can I?” Ben says in a breathy mumble.

“Please,” Armitage says, hiding his grin against his forearm. “The bottle’s right next to the chair.”

Ben shuffles to his knees in the sand—he’s wearing pink and pale green board shorts and a black mesh T-shirt—and plucks up the sunblock. Armitage closes his eyes.

Ben’s hands are really, really big, Armitage thinks as they sweep over his back, rubbing sunblock into his skin. It’s a shame he’ll never see what Ben looks like as a man.

That, of course, isn’t the point of this at all. No, the reason Armitage lured Ben here should be arriving any moment…

“Armitage?” a woman’s voice asks, tremulous, and Armitage turns his head to face the side of the lounger opposite Ben, where Maratelle is standing.

“Mother,” he greets her.

“Armitage,” Maratelle says again, “what are you—what is this?”

“I’m getting some sun,” Armitage says. “Ben very kindly offered to help me so I don’t burn.”

“So you don’t,” Maratelle says slowly, “burn.”

“Yes,” Armitage says. He gives her a sweet smile.

“I–I see,” Maratelle says, and goes silent. Armitage closes his eyes again. After a moment, he risks a look, and she’s gone.

“Armitage,” Ben says. “That’s a really long name.”

Armitage blinks, resists the urge to look at him. “It’s a family name.”

“Can I—is there a short version I can call you?”

Ben doesn’t need to call him anything at all. Armitage rolls over and sits up. “Thank you for helping me with the sunscreen,” he says.

“You’re welcome,” Ben says shyly.

Armitage looks at him, waiting.

“So…what about Armie? Is Armie okay?”

“ _Armie_?” Armitage splutters.

“God, you’re hot when you’re pissed off,” Ben says.

“Shit,” Armitage huffs, and he shoves himself off the lounger. “I’ve got to go. Goodbye, Ben.” He starts folding the chair, less deftly than he would prefer.

“Can I help? I can carry something?”

“No, thank you,” Armitage grits out, struggling to collapse the headrest.

Ben reaches around him and slides the catch out of its notch, and the headrest falls immediately into place. Now he’s pressed up against Armitage’s back, and Armitage can feel his skin through his mesh T-shirt.

“That’s enough,” Armitage says, shrugging him off. “Goodbye.”

“When can I see you again?” Ben asks.

 _Never_ , Armitage thinks, but he hears himself ask, “How old are you?”

“Fifteen,” Ben says.

Armitage rounds on him. “I don’t have time for children,” he says. “Goodbye.” He’s angry now and he’s not even sure why, only Ben is too close and his eyes are watery and he has big, big hands. “Goodbye,” Armitage says again, and he snatches the chair’s carrying handle and flounces off down the beach.

He doesn’t realize until he’s back in the hotel room that he left the sunscreen behind.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armitage returns to St. Augustine after 15 years.

Armitage hasn’t been to St. Augustine since the summer he was twenty, dragged along by Brendol and Maratelle in their vain attempt to curb his burgeoning homosexuality. They’d monopolized his summer, kept him away from bars and clubs and parades, but they couldn’t keep him from being himself, and he made up for lost time as soon as he returned to campus in the fall.

He’s back, nearly 15 years later, to celebrate the first anniversary of Brendol’s death. It’s the perfect fuck-you: Brendol loved St. Augustine for its history, and to Brendol history meant “the good old days” when everyone was supposedly straight and married with two-point-five children. He probably never even noticed the city’s thriving gay scene—a scene which Armitage has been fully enjoying, now that he can.

Armitage’s trip has happened to coincide with the St. Augustine Pride Festival, and he tells everyone who will listen that he is the son of homophobic British Army general Brendol Hux, may he rest in pieces. Every day he patronizes LGBT owned and operated businesses, and every night he toasts at a martini bar or dances at a club.

On the last day of his vacation, all he wants to do is laze about in the sun and look good.

The last time he came to St. Augustine Beach, he was constrained by what Brendol considered acceptable menswear. His swim briefs barely made the cut. Now, though, he can dress however he likes—and what he likes is a little white bikini, tiny white triangles over his nipples and a thong between his asscheeks and ultra-thin straps holding everything precariously together. The bottoms barely contain his cock, and they’re fastened at either side with flimsy ties that could break easily with the twist of a strong hand.

It’s the perfect beach look.

He’s acquired a lounger, an umbrella, and a sun hat, and he kicks off his sandals and stretches out in the sun, uncapping his bottle of sunscreen as he gazes out at the waves rolling in to shore. He could, he thinks with mild annoyance as he spreads sunscreen on his arms, do with a little help. Especially reaching his back.

The only way this trip could be more perfect would be if he was with someone, a fact he’s tried not to think too much about. Not only is he unbearably single, but he hasn’t even seen a viable one night stand prospect here. Sighing, he squirts sunscreen onto his legs and rubs it in a bit more violently than necessary.

He’s just finished his stomach when suddenly, the most gorgeous man to ever exist is coming out of the water almost directly in front of him.

He’s  _big_. Broad, muscular shoulders, enormous arms, thick torso, barrel legs…but somehow none of it is excessive. It looks natural on him. He’s carrying a red and black surfboard with no discernible effort.

His dark hair is plastered to his head; he shakes it out and it falls in wet curls around his long face. He’s shirtless and his meaty pecs are glistening, which is entirely unfair.

Armitage is trying to discern if the man’s nipples are peaked when he realizes he’s walking straight toward him. He lets a smile creep across his face, lounging back and crossing his legs casually.

“Hey,” the man says, coming to a stop and propping his board up in the sand.

“Hello there,” Armitage purrs. He lets his eyes roam the man’s body before raising them back to his face. His stomach does an odd flip when he meets the man’s rich brown eyes.

“Nice bikini,” the man says, and then  _he’s_  letting  _his_  eyes wander, and Armitage very nearly trembles with delight.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Must be a bitch to get full sunscreen coverage.” The man’s lips quirk up on one side.

“Are you offering your assistance?” Armitage asks boldly, lacing his fingers behind his head in a calculated move to thrust his chest up a bit.

The man’s eyes drop to the miniscule cups of the bikini.

“Yeah,” he says.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's something special about the man Armitage encountered on the beach. And anyway, he's hot.

The man inhales sharply when Armitage turns onto his stomach, and Armitage can’t help shimmying his hips a bit to let his practically bare arse jiggle. The man’s hands are on it immediately, squeezing, making Armitage gasp. They’re so large that they easily cover both cheeks.

“You don’t waste any time, do you?” Armitage asks breathily.

“Try not to,” the man says, a gruff edge to that low voice. Armitage feels big thumbs smoothing down along the line of the thong, curving away to play at the sensitive skin where the swell of his arse meets his thighs. He lets out a soft whine. “Where are you staying?” the man murmurs, barely audible over the dull roar of waves rolling in to shore.

“Just up the beach, just—there,” Armitage manages, gesturing vaguely in the direction of his hotel.

“Did you walk here looking like this?”

Armitage lets out a huffed laugh, tries to be coy. “It’s too hot to wear clothes,” he says.

“Yeah,” the man agrees. “Let’s get the rest of it off.” A thick finger slips beneath the skinny strip of fabric keeping Armitage barely decent, then moves down, ghosting along Armitage’s crack so lightly it almost tickles. It keeps going, lower and lower, until Armitage starts to wonder if he’s going to be undressed right here on the beach—but then the finger slides away, and Armitage lets out a heavy, shuddering breath. “Unless all you want from me is sunscreen,” the man says.

Armitage doesn’t dignify that with anything but a withering look as he rolls off the lounge chair and stands.

It wouldn’t be very glamorous, having to fold up the lounger and umbrella and stuff his towel and sunscreen back into his tote bag, except there’s a tall, broad, muscular body pressed up behind him as he does it. Armitage watches the muscles in the man’s forearm flex as he reaches around to help collapse the chair, presses backward into him to feel the hard muscles of his chest against his shoulder blades. (And to feel something else, too. The man is wearing solid black board shorts that make it difficult to see anything.

(He’s not disappointed.)

“You’re big,” Armitage breathes as his arse makes contact with the solid outline of the man’s dick. It’s an understatement. This may be the largest dick Armitage has ever encountered.

The man’s hands settle at Armitage’s waist, pull him tight against his erect cock. “I am,” he says.

“Let’s–let’s get back to my room,” Armitage says.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armitage takes the man from the beach back to his hotel.

It doesn’t matter what tap it comes out of; the water in St. Augustine smells like seawater. It’s the great equalizer, Armitage thinks as he washes his hands in the marble sink of his suite’s spacious bathroom. It smelled like seawater in the cheap motel room Brendol chose fifteen years ago, and it smells like seawater here, in one of the nicest resorts on the beach.

Armitage hopes Brendol is turning in his grave, horrified not only that his unworthy son can afford the luxuries he never could, but also that all that finery is about to be defiled by Armitage’s  _deviancy_.

His smile falters in the mirror.

When he emerges, the ridiculously large man he’s brought here to fuck is sitting on the bed with his forearms on his knees, a white hotel towel wrapped around his waist and wet hair hanging in curly clumps around his face. For a moment, he looks strangely innocent. Then he raises his head and turns keen brown eyes on Armitage.

Armitage stops mid-step, stomach dropping to his feet. A traitorous flush rises to his cheeks and chest, and he becomes very aware of how much the bikini doesn’t hide.

When he finally manages to blink, Armitage quickly shifts his eyes away, then draws a long, slow breath to steady himself. “Well,” he says, looking studiously at the wall, “now that we’re both cleaned up, we have a few things to get out of the way. One: I’m not doing anything without protection. Two: I’m happy to top or bottom, if you’re interested in anal. Three—”

The man is suddenly standing right in front of him, a big hand coming up to toy with the bikini’s left shoulder strap. “This is just sex?” he guesses, watching his own fingers. “I shouldn’t get attached?” His face is very close; Armitage feels the warmth of his breath against his cheek.

“Are,” Armitage stammers, making the mistake of looking at him again, eyes going straight to his wide red lips, “are you in danger of becoming attached?”

The man shrugs, hooks his finger in the strap, tugs it to the side and slides it off Armitage’s shoulder. “It’s happened before.”

Armitage shivers as the man stoops to inspect his handiwork. The tiny triangle has fallen away from Armitage’s left nipple, which is quickly pebbling in the room’s air conditioning.

The man leans in, hands sliding around Armitage’s ribcage, and seals his mouth around the hard nub. Armitage gasps, grabs at the man’s hair. The man’s mouth is hot and wet and his extraordinary nose is grinding against Armitage’s chest and his tongue is flicking hard across the nipple, over and over and over. Armitage clutches handfuls of dark hair, groaning, just as the man grazes the nipple with his teeth.

Abruptly the man pulls away, straightens, withdraws his hands. The loss of his touch is almost painful. “What do you want?” he asks, eyes roving Armitage’s body.

 _Everything_ , Armitage thinks, desperately trying to narrow it down. After a moment he manages, “To kiss you.”

The man’s eyes widen a bit. Then he smiles, and it’s almost bashful. Stepping forward again, hands coming to Armitage’s shoulders, he murmurs, “Okay.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something about this situation feels familiar, even as it is wholly new and exciting.

The man keeps asking him what he wants, and then he keeps doing it. It’s like he’s the perfect mate, birthed by the sea for the sole purpose of pleasing Armitage.

“To see you,” Armitage says, and the man lets the towel fall to the floor. “To touch every inch of you.” And the man stands there and lets Armitage run his hands over his face, his neck, his chest, his arms, his back, his arse, his legs. “I want you on your knees,” Armitage demands, and the man drops immediately.

He’s heady with it. He’s never had a partner like this. There’s never been anyone so willing to do whatever Armitage asked.

Well, it occurs to him, there was someone once. Someone who let Armitage use him, who was still willing to be of use to Armitage even when it was obvious what Armitage had done. Someone who had thick, wavy black hair and big hands.

Someone who was too young then, but wouldn’t be now.

“I want your name,” Armitage says.

The man is gazing up at him from the floor, and Armitage can see his tongue working behind his closed mouth, running over his teeth in a nervous tic that pushes his lips out in an ersatz pout. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and monotone, but his eyes are upturned, almost intent. “Kylo Ren,” he says.

Armitage doesn’t realize he’s been holding his breath until it comes out in a disappointed sigh. Of course this man isn’t the boy from fifteen years ago. The idea is ridiculous—both that Armitage would conveniently encounter Ben again on his second of just two visits to St. Augustine in a decade and a half, and that Ben would even be interested now, fifteen years after Armitage used and rejected him.

More importantly, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that the man kneeling before him isn’t Ben, but a stranger named Kylo Ren. It’s not like there’s anything particularly wrong with Kylo. Wasn’t Armitage just thinking that he was perfect?

(He can imagine Brendol’s reaction to this situation. “That’s what you get for being a fucking deviant,” he’d laugh.)

Kylo is still looking at him. He swallows, tries to push his thoughts away. “Armitage Hux,” he says. “A pleasure.”

“Armitage,” Kylo says, and the way he says it sounds so similar to the way Ben said it all those years ago that Armitage’s breath catches again. “What do you want now?”

He shouldn’t be thinking of another man, especially not a man he hasn’t seen in fifteen years, a man who could be anywhere, doing anything. He should be enjoying what he has right here: tall, broad, strong, beautiful, and obeying his every command.

Armitage yanks the bikini bottoms down, frowning as his cock flops lifelessly against his thigh. “Make me hard,” he says.  _Make me forget._


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The strange familiarity of the situation--it's almost, but not quite, what he wants--finally gets to Armitage.

Kylo is very good with his hands, squeezing and twisting, pulling and pressing and rolling. And once the condom’s in place Kylo wastes no time in taking Armitage into his mouth and down his throat, all the way to the root.

“Fuck,” Armitage pants, stroking his fingers back through Kylo’s thick hair, “that’s good. That’s good, Kylo.”

Kylo makes an odd sound around Armitage’s cock and draws nearly all the way off, gazing up at him.

“What?” Armitage snaps. Kylo’s lips curve upward around his cockhead at that, then he lowers his eyes and pushes forward to resheath Armitage’s dick in his throat.

“That’s better,” Armitage says, and he thrusts forward a little for good measure, making Kylo gag. Kylo picks up the pace in response, slamming Armitage’s cock down his throat again and again. “Well, if that’s the way you want it,” Armitage says, and he grabs a fistful of Kylo’s hair, wrenching him down even harder.

It’s exquisite, fucking into Kylo’s hot, wet mouth, feeling the probe of his tongue and the drag of his lips and the clench of his throat. Kylo’s muffled moans and desperate gasps are almost even better than that. Armitage yanks him back and forth by the hair and Kylo lets him do it—this enormous man who could break Armitage in half is instead at Armitage’s mercy.

Armitage doesn’t mean to come so soon but he can’t help it; before he even realizes what’s happened he’s shuddering, shaking on his feet, clinging to Kylo’s hair for balance.

Kylo’s hands come up to his hips to steady him, thumbs brushing over his hip bones, the light caress sending sparks singing up his spine. “What do you want now?” Kylo asks.

Armitage centers himself, opens his eyes and looks down at Kylo. He’s settled down to sit on his heels, and his cock rises fully erect, red and straining, from his lap. Armitage gazes at it thoughtfully for a moment, then raises a foot and steps on it, pressing it into Kylo’s thigh. Kylo lets out a hiss but doesn’t protest, doesn’t move his hands from Armitage’s hips. “Shall I do something with this vulgar thing?” Armitage asks, grinding his foot down against Kylo’s dick.

“If–if you want to,” Kylo says, his voice strained.

“You aren’t going to beg?”

“No.”

“What if I  _want_ you to beg?”

Kylo lets out a whine. His hands twitch, gripping more tightly at Armitage’s hips, and he sucks on his lower lip. “What should I beg for?” he asks, sounding like he’s pleading already.

“What do you  _want_?” Armitage says sharply, because surely Kylo has  _some_ sort of imagination?

“I want—what you want. Whatever you want. I’ll do whatever you want, Armitage.”

Armitage looks at Kylo for a long moment. He gives Kylo’s cock one final hard press with the ball of his foot, then steps back, letting Kylo’s hands fall away from his hips. “Forget the begging,” he says, because it’s no fun if Kylo doesn’t want something Armitage can deny. “Get up.” Kylo rises slowly to his feet. Armitage watches him, watches the muscles in his arms and legs and stomach flex. “You’ll do whatever I want?”

“Yes,” Kylo says.

Armitage keeps watching him, moving his eyes up to Kylo’s face. “I want you to pretend to be somebody else.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armitage asks for what he wants. Kylo gives it to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter where the archive warnings start to come into play.

Kylo frowns, and Armitage wonders if he’s gone too far, essentially telling him he’s not good enough as he is. But then Kylo says, “Who should I be?”

Armitage’s heart flutters in his throat and his pulse pounds in his wrists. “Someone…” He tries to put what he’s craving into words. “…angrier.”

“Angrier?” Kylo looks amused at this.

“Pretend I’ve hurt you,” Armitage says. “Pretend I led you on and you’ve never forgiven me. Pretend that now you can have your way with me, as revenge. Do what you’ve always dreamed of doing.”

The amusement slides off Kylo’s face, replaced first with surprise and then with what appears to be consternation. “That’s really what you want?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Armitage says impatiently, putting his hands on his hips. “Go on, then.”

Kylo looks down for a long moment, long enough that Armitage begins to wonder if what he’s asked is beyond the man. He’s about to give him an out when suddenly Kylo’s head snaps back up and he’s stalking into Armitage’s space, hands in fists, shoulders and chest heaving. Armitage is so startled he stumbles backward and falls onto the bed.

“I can’t believe you came back here,” Kylo thunders. He looms over Armitage, face twisted with rage. “I can’t believe you thought you could get away with it  _again_.” He slams Armitage’s left shoulder into the bed with one hand and snatches the right strap of Armitage’s forgotten bikini top with the other. With a violent twist, the top breaks; Kylo jerks it off Armitage and flings it across the room.

Armitage’s breath is coming hard. “I—”

“Shut up,” Kylo snarls. “You wanted me to want you. You got your wish. Now you have to deal with the consequences.” He gropes down to where the bikini bottoms are still clinging to Armitage’s thighs and rips them apart in one savage motion.

Armitage can’t move. His heart has never beaten this fast in his life.

“I’d rather fuck you bare, teach you a real lesson, but who knows what’s been in that slut hole,” Kylo sneers. “But you’ll never forget this dick. It’s gonna ruin you. It’s gonna tear you in half.” He shoves at Armitage’s shoulder, then straightens. “Stay there,” he orders coldly as he moves around the bed toward the nightstand.

Now that Kylo isn’t practically on top of him, Armitage finds he can move. Off balance, barely able to think, he scrambles up the bed a bit, watching Kylo with wide eyes.

“I told you to  _stay_ ,” Kylo growls, hurling lubricant and condoms onto the bed and grabbing Armitage by the wrist. Suddenly Armitage is on his stomach, arm bent behind his back and face shoved into the mattress. Kylo hooks his free arm around Armitage’s waist and manhandles him onto his knees. “Time to get what you deserve, Armitage,” Kylo says, and there’s so much venom in his voice that Armitage quakes with a full-body tremor.

Kylo doesn’t prep him. He drizzles cold lube down Armitage’s crack and pushes his slicked-up cock against Armitage’s hole and forces his way in, torturous and slow. All Armitage can do while Kylo’s enormous dick burns its way deeper and deeper is concentrate on his breathing and try not to scream.

“There,” Kylo pants out triumphantly when he finally bottoms out. He holds there, breathing deep, for a long moment. Then he leans forward and grabs Armitage’s free wrist, pulling it back and trapping both wrists at the small of Armitage’s back. His other hand fists painfully in Armitage’s hair and yanks his head back. He starts drawing out of Armitage, slow and searing.

“Just do it,” Armitage says, horrified to hear the words come out in a reedy sob. “If you’re going to do it, just do it.”

“You’re not even sorry, are you?” Kylo says, sounding impressed and angry at the same time.

“No.” Armitage twists to glare back at Kylo defiantly. “I’m not sorry for anything.”

He’s barely gotten the words out when suddenly Kylo is slamming violently back into him, driving out the scream Armitage has been fighting to hold back.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The realistic rape fantasy scene has an effect on Armitage and Kylo both.

When he’s finished, Kylo clenches Armitage’s hair and wrists tight and lets out a long, guttural groan, jerking against Armitage in a few final, short thrusts. Then he lets go, hands dropping to the bed on either side of Armitage’s shoulders, shaking arms keeping him from collapsing completely. He’s covered in sweat, his burning hot skin sticking to Armitage’s back and thighs, and he’s breathing so hard his inhalations are pressing Armitage down toward the bed.

Before Armitage can get his wits about him, try to move, say something, do  _anything_ , Kylo pulls out, hissing as his softening dick slides free. Armitage feels his arsehole instinctively clench around nothing, throbbing and raw, and he can’t keep down a sob. Kylo says nothing; he draws back, and Armitage hears footfalls moving away from the bed, and then a door opens and closes.

Kylo’s gone.

Kylo’s gone, and Armitage is shaking on the bed in his hotel room, arse still propped up in the air by shuddering thighs, face plastered to the sheets by sweat and tears and snot. His wrists are sore and his hands are tingling, and his scalp is aching from having his hair savagely yanked—but none of that compares to the searing, tearing agony that is the aftermath of being held down and brutally fucked by Kylo Ren.

He wants to move—to clean up, to look for the remnants of his bikini, to finish packing for his flight tomorrow—to just  _get on with it_ —but he also wants to pull the blankets up over himself and never think about anything ever again. He stays as he is, doesn’t dare to shift position on the bed, scrubs the sheet over his face with one hand and tries to level out his breathing.

The room is quiet. So very quiet. He can hear every small, weak, pathetic noise whimpering out of him.

Then, suddenly, three sounds all at once: a powerful  _thump_  that shakes the walls, the distinctive tinkling crunch of glass shattering, and a deep, low, long scream.

Armitage has scrambled up and off the bed before he can even register how much it hurts to do so. Then he realizes—Kylo’s not gone. Of course he’s not gone. His board shorts are still on the floor. He’s in the bathroom.

Something slowly unclenches in Armitage’s chest.

He makes his painful, limping way to the bathroom door and opens it without knocking. “What was that?” he asks, even as he sees exactly what it was: the mirror is broken, and there are bloody shards everywhere, and Kylo’s knuckles are torn and red.

Kylo looks at him, his face somehow furious and despairing at the same time. “I’m sorry,” he says through gritted teeth.

Armitage waves dismissively at the mirror. “They can fix it. They’ll bill me. It’s fine.”

“No,” Kylo says, “I mean. What happened. I. That was too far.”

Armitage’s arsehole flares reflexively, and he flinches a bit at the pain. “It was what I asked for,” he reasons, half to himself. “Exactly what I asked for.”

“Why?” Kylo asks hoarsely. “Why did you ask me to do that?”

“Because,” Armitage says, and then he stops, brow furrowing. “I don’t know. It was what I wanted.”

Kylo’s fists tighten at his sides; a drop of blood falls to the tile. “It was what I wanted, too,” he whispers. “But I thought—I thought I was over it. I didn’t—I don’t want to want that.”

Armitage isn’t sure how to respond to this, so he nods at Kylo’s hand instead. “Best get that cleaned up,” he says. Kylo doesn’t move—he just looks at the floor and chews on his lips—so Armitage steps past him and starts the water running in the sink. “You know,” Armitage says quietly, “you have nothing to be upset about. You did so well. When you didn’t come back, I almost thought…”

He stops. Kylo doesn’t need to know—

“What?” Kylo demands. He comes around to face Armitage, eyes intent. “What did you think?”

Armitage swallows. “I almost thought it was real,” he confesses.

Kylo spins away from him, and Armitage barely catches his wrist before he punches the mirror again. As soon as Armitage touches him, all the strength leaves Kylo’s arm and he drops it back to his side.

“That’s what I’m  _saying_ , Armitage,” Kylo says in a choked growl that’s directed at a point somewhere over Armitage’s shoulder. “It  _was_ real.” 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armitage figures it out. (Or at least, he thinks he does.)

He knew it. He  _knew_ it.

“I knew it,” Armitage says. “You’re Ben.”

“I  _was_ Ben,” Kylo says, still staring off to the side. “I’m someone else now.”

Armitage feels a smile stretching across his face, and he doesn’t fight it. This whole trip has been an absolute triumph. He’s visited all the places Brendol dragged him, wearing whatever he wanted, saying whatever he wanted, doing whatever he wanted. He’s conquered a city that Brendol tried to use to break him. And now, to cap it all off, he gets to revisit his one sweet memory of the place, too.

“Still just as beautiful,” Armitage says, sweeping his eyes up and down Kylo’s body, taking him in anew. He’s so much broader now, filled out in all the right places. Armitage leans his hip against the marble vanity counter, winces a bit as his arsehole throbs. “Do you know, I was so angry with you for being fifteen. How  _dare_ you be too young.”

Kylo has been subdued since his confession, refusing to look at Armitage. Now Kylo’s eyes dart straight to his, and there’s a startled look on his face. “That’s why you called me a child?”

“You  _were_ a child.”

Kylo licks his lips. His eyes are watery. “You weren’t…unhappy with me.”

“I was unhappy with your age,” Armitage says with a shrug. “By practically any other measure, you were perfect.” He lays a hand on Kylo’s bicep and squeezes lightly. “I’m  _certainly_ not unhappy with you  _now_.”

“Even though I just—” Kylo breaks off, clenches his jaw. “I’m not Ben,” he insists quietly, but he doesn’t move away from Armitage’s touch.

Armitage gives him a long, appraising look. Then he glances down to Kylo’s wounded knuckles. “Clean your hand in the sink,” he says.

Kylo lets out a frustrated-sounding huff, but he diligently turns and thrusts his knuckles under the running water. His face pinches up as he starts scrubbing them with his other hand.

“Stop that,” Armitage says, and Kylo does. “There’s probably glass. Just rinse, then we’ll use tweezers.”

There’s a first aid kit in the suite, and once Armitage is satisfied that Kylo’s hand is free of glass shards, he sprays it with disinfectant and wraps it in a bandage. “Now,” Armitage says, “it’s time for you to take care of me. Run me a bath. Warm, not too hot. No soap.”

Wordlessly, Kylo follows his instructions.

As they wait for the tub to fill, Armitage steps closer to Kylo. They’re both still naked, and the scent of Kylo’s dried sweat is a welcome counterpoint to the near-suffocating tang of the St. Augustine tap water. Kylo is fidgeting from foot to foot, looking everywhere but at Armitage.

“Kylo,” Armitage says softly, “you’ve done everything I’ve told you to.” When Kylo doesn’t respond, Armitage leans in and kisses his trembling lips.

Kylo sucks in a shaky breath. “Armitage,” he protests in a murmur.

Armitage pulls back to look at him. “Help me into the bath.”

Despite having experienced ample evidence of Kylo’s strength already, it’s thrilling how effortlessly Kylo scoops him up. Armitage indulges in wrapping both arms around Kylo’s neck as Kylo lowers him gently into the tub.

The warm water both soothes and stings; Armitage lets out a hiss and then a long sigh. “Get in with me, Kylo,” he says, and Kylo does, sliding into the tub behind him and stretching out his long, thick legs to either side. Armitage leans back against him, resting his head on Kylo’s shoulder, and focuses on relaxing his muscles.

Kylo’s keeping his bandaged hand on the edge of the tub, but the other one is on his knee. Armitage picks that hand up, turns it over, runs his fingertips over it. When he’s finished investigating Kylo’s broad palm and big fingers, he settles Kylo’s hand onto his own thigh instead of putting it back.

“Do you hate me, Kylo?” he asks.

Armitage feels more than sees Kylo’s jaw working as he considers the question. Then, “No,” Kylo says.

Armitage grins. “I thought not.” He turns his face into Kylo’s neck. “But you were angry with me.”

“Yes,” Kylo mutters.

“Are you angry now?”

Kylo shifts, sending small ripples of water splashing up against the walls of the tub. “A little.”

Armitage sucks at the skin of Kylo’s neck. “I wish I could take advantage of that, but you did so well the first time, I’m not going to be ready for it again anytime soon.”

“You—” Kylo swallows. “You’d want that again?”

“Probably,” Armitage tells him, shifting from sucking to biting. “It depends on my mood.” He worries at Kylo’s skin with his teeth until Kylo hisses, then soothes the spot with soft licks. “But next time, don’t leave the room.”

Kylo shifts again. His hand tightens around Armitage’s thigh, thumb stroking circles into the skin, and they both go quiet.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armitage runs.

_Next time_ , he said, like this would ever happen again.

They go back to bed after the bath; Armitage plays with Kylo’s cock a little, slow strokes and pulls that don’t go anywhere, and falls asleep with his arm around Kylo’s waist. When he blinks back into consciousness at 4 a.m., Kylo is still asleep, curled up on his side under the blanket. Armitage pulls carefully away from him and slips out of the bed, quietly puts his clothes and toiletries and ruined bikini back into his suitcase. He briefly entertains the idea of taking Kylo’s board shorts, but instead he folds them neatly and leaves them on a chair. At checkout, he tells the front desk that his guest will be leaving later, and to please not disturb him until 10:30.

He takes I-95 to Jacksonville in favor of the more scenic routes. He’s done with St. Augustine, done with Florida; there’s no need to linger. The trip served its purpose and now he’s going home.

The 50-minute drive gives him plenty of time, too much time, to think. He doesn’t want to think about anything, but it’s hard not to think of Kylo when his arse is still on fire from being ravaged by his dick. Every minute shift in his seat sends a painfully pleasant reminder shooting up his spine. And so he spends the entire drive fighting down thoughts of Kylo’s wide red lips around his cock, of Kylo’s big hands on his hips.

Armitage left far too early for his afternoon itinerary; the sun has barely risen when he pulls the rental car into the return lot at JAX. He could have spent several more hours in bed  _not_  sitting on his sore arse—but that would have been several more hours lying next to Kylo, his broad back and distinctive nose and thick thighs and tight stomach and big, watery eyes, all of it, all of him, right there for the taking.

 _It’s happened before_ , Kylo said when Armitage asked if he was in danger of becoming attached.

It was best not to draw it out. Best to move on. Kylo would have gotten attached, and it would have gotten messy.

The upside to being this early is that the airport is practically empty. He’s through security in under ten minutes, and shortly thereafter he’s found his gate, toward the end of Concourse A. There’s only one sit-down restaurant in the concourse, a burger place that isn’t open yet; Armitage purchases an overpriced sandwich at a stall purporting to be a ‘gourmet market’ and settles in near the airline counter at gate A5.

All too soon, the sandwich is gone and Armitage has nothing to do. He shifts in his seat, winces, then grimaces as his cock twitches. Perhaps he should have brought Kylo to the airport with him. They could find plenty of ways to pass the time.

Armitage sighs. He may as well give in to the urge to think about Kylo, get it out of his system.

A vision of Kylo striding up the beach, half-naked and dripping with seawater, floats into Armitage’s mind. He was beautiful, gloriously beautiful. Even before Armitage knew he was the same person as the boy he met fifteen years ago, he was entranced.

It’s remarkable that they ran into each other again so many years later. It’s as if the city of St. Augustine itself was waiting for Armitage’s return, to present Kylo as a gift. And Kylo walked out of the sea and came straight to Armitage, like nothing and no one else existed in the world.

Did Kylo already know who he was? They didn’t discuss—well, they didn’t discuss much of anything, thankfully. But Armitage somehow hasn’t considered until now whether Kylo knew who he was when he approached Armitage on the beach, or if he only realized during their time in the hotel room.

The pause when Armitage asked for his name—Kylo definitely knew at that point. But did he know before that?

Armitage isn’t sure which scenario he prefers.

There’s no point in worrying about it now. He’s not worried anyway; just curious. But nothing would come of knowing.

Ben was a fond memory. Kylo will be too.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armitage second-guesses his decision to leave for the airport so early.

An hour crawls by. More people drift in, settling down to wait for earlier flights. A flight crew takes up residence at the counter in front of Armitage, but they’re not his. His won’t be here for hours yet.

He needn’t have gone through security so soon. Now he’s trapped here with nothing to do.

Armitage frowns. It’s unlike him to plan so poorly. He needs to shake off this vacation fog if he’s to return to work tomorrow.

Maybe he’ll just…check in on Kylo.

He’s got his phone out and is pulling up the hotel’s phone number before the thought has even settled. The front desk picks up after a single ring.

“Hello, this is Armitage Hux. I was staying in room 205 until this morning.”

“Yes, sir, how can I help you?”

“I was wondering about my guest, whether he’s left yet or he’s still in the room.”

There’s a pause as the woman consults with someone. Then, “We haven’t seen him, sir, and no one has entered the room yet per your instructions. Would you like us to connect you?”

“No,” Armitage says quickly. Then, more calmly, “No, thank you. Goodbye.”

He stares at his phone. Kylo might still be in the bed, nestled up under the covers, asleep, blissfully unaware of Armitage’s departure.

If Armitage were to return, it could be as if he never left.

Armitage stands up with a huff. Why is he even considering this? It’s over. His vacation’s over, his memories with Ben and Kylo Ren are just that—memories. It’s time to return to real life.

It’s just—there’s so much  _time_ left. Armitage does the math quickly. If he were to return now, he’d have three hours in St. Augustine before he had to drive back to catch his flight. What a waste, to have left so soon! He could be enjoying Kylo’s mouth, or possibly his arse, right now.

That decides it. Armitage snatches up his carry-on’s pull handle and stalks back toward the terminal, smiling tightly as every step sends a rush of pleasure-pain shooting through his core. He can’t believe he left a gorgeous beast like Kylo Ren sooner than he absolutely had to. Well, he’ll make up for it as best he can.

Renting another car would take too long; he flags down a taxi out front. “Fast as you can,” he says, passing the driver a large cash tip. Then he settles in as comfortably as possible and calls the hotel again. He’ll arrive shortly before final checkout time. Fortunately, the room isn’t booked for the next night—“Most people visiting for the festival checked out today,” the clerk tells him—so Armitage snaps it up. “If you see my guest,” Armitage instructs, “tell him I had to step out for a moment, and I’ll be right back.”

He’s practically thrumming with excitement by the time the cab pulls up to the hotel, sooner than expected. “Well done,” he tells the driver, adding another tip to the fare. He retrieves his case and very nearly runs through the automatic doors.

“Armitage Hux,” he snaps to the desk clerk. “Room 205. Keys.”

“Oh, uh, yes, sir,” the girl stammers, pulling up the account. “We’ve reset the cards, give me one moment…”

Armitage crosses his arms impatiently as the girl swipes the cards to reactivate them for his room. As soon as she’s done, he snatches them out of her hand and sweeps off to the elevator.

The ride up, a single floor, seems interminable. Armitage sighs and checks his phone for the time. Ten-thirty, just the time he expected to arrive. It’s all gone perfectly, at least, and soon—

Armitage pushes through the doors before they’re fully open, charges down the hall, stabs the card into the slot, and enters the room in a rush. “Kylo,” he calls, “I’m back, I had to step out—”

He stops short in the entryway, lets go of his suitcase’s pull handle. The case, unbalanced, tips and falls to the carpet with a soft thump, but Armitage barely notices.

The bed is empty. The board shorts are missing from the chair.

Kylo’s gone.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is incompetent, and Armitage is very put out about how much trouble he's having to go to just to find Kylo.

Armitage is alone in the hotel room he should have left for good this morning. He’s frozen in the entryway, not quite seeing the empty room, until the air conditioner automatically cycles on and he startles into a dim sort of focus. He blinks, shakes his head. Then he moves to the bed, abandoning the suitcase on the floor. The state of his arse has completely left his mind, so he lets out a yelp of both agony and surprise when he sits down heavily and pain shoots up through his core. Cursing, Armitage shifts his weight to one hip and leans on his knees.

Kylo isn’t even here.

He’s spent a ridiculous amount on cab fare and another night he doesn’t need in this room, and Kylo isn’t even here.

He should be here. He’s  _supposed_ to be here. He should be stretched out in this bed, naked, alluring, ready to do everything Armitage asks.

Armitage feels a sneer pulling at his lip. What a complete fucking waste. He can practically hear Brendol’s derisive laughter.

He could, he supposes, just go right back to the airport. This little adventure did at least pass some time, if not in a particularly satisfying way. There’s even more time left, though. If he goes back, he’ll just be in the same situation as before.

Why did Kylo have to leave? Why didn’t the hotel staff tell him to wait?

Armitage stands and goes for the bedside phone. “Yes, this is Hux in 205,” he snaps as soon as the front desk picks up. “My guest isn’t here. Why didn’t you tell him I was returning?”

“We–we didn’t see him,” the girl stammers. “We don’t know what he looks like. No one else came to check out from your room. And we weren’t to disturb him until now.”

So Kylo didn’t bother to tell the desk he was leaving. Armitage hangs up in irritation. No one’s doing anything right today. Well, the cab driver did all right, and security at the airport was fine. But Kylo and the hotel staff are dismal failures.

Maybe Armitage can salvage this situation. He has this room for as long as he needs. If he can get Kylo back here, he can still make use of it.

The only problem is finding Kylo. But St. Augustine is a small town, and Kylo Ren is a distinctive man. Someone surely knows him, or has seen him.

He starts at the front desk, but no one remembers a man of Kylo’s description, so Kylo must have left through the side door where they first entered the hotel, where they hosed the sand off their feet and Kylo left his surfboard propped against the wall. Armitage goes out that way, and as expected, the surfboard is gone.

The beach is the next obvious place. Armitage stalks down the road away from the resort toward the sea. As he crests a rise and slogs his way across the sand, he sees that the lifeguard stations are empty; apparently it’s too early in the season. The beach itself is practically empty as well. A few people are jogging along the water’s edge, and there’s no one in the water. Armitage flags down three joggers before giving up; no one has seen Kylo or recognizes his name.

It’s too cold to surf right now, Armitage reasons. Of course Kylo wouldn’t be here. But perhaps he patronizes the LGBT-owned tourist shops in the historic district. Perhaps someone there knows him.

Armitage returns to the resort and has the concierge call him a car. Soon he’s being shuttled past the amphitheater, the alligator farm, the lighthouse, off Anastasia Island and back to the mainland. They have to wait for a ship to pass at the Bridge of Lions, but then, finally, they’re at Plaza de la Constitución and the driver is dropping him at St. George Street.

Unlike the beach, the historic district is packed with tourists. Armitage shoulders his way between a very tall, pale blonde woman and a short, tanned brunette, barely avoiding getting splattered with Dole Whip. He lurches into the first storefront he remembers: a Flagler College memorabilia shop run by a sickeningly lovey-dovey gay couple.

“Welcome to Hogwarts!” he’s greeted immediately by the younger of the couple, a brown-eyed man with rich, dark skin whose name Armitage doesn’t remember. “Oh, it’s you.”

Armitage sniffs. He supposes his height and red hair must be memorable. “Do you know a man named Kylo Ren?” he asks without preamble.

“You gonna buy something this time?” ‘Hogwarts’ counters.

Armitage sighs and pulls out his wallet. “Fine, give me a magnet or something.” He’s handed a $15 magnet with the Flagler College lion crest rendered in red and gold, and forks over a twenty to pay for it. “So you know him?”

“Yeah, I know him. Why?”

“I’m trying to find him, and I haven’t much time.”

‘Hogwarts’ gives him a considering look as he slides the magnet into a small brown paper bag. “Does he  _want_ you to find him?”

Armitage huffs impatiently and accepts the bag. “Of course.”

“Huh,” ‘Hogwarts’ says. “Hold on.” He steps back, leans through the door behind the counter that leads to the back room. “Hey, Poe,” he says, and then his voice is inaudible, though Armitage makes out  _that asshole_. A murmured voice replies, and ‘Hogwarts’ comes back to the counter, half-frowning. “Tell us how he can reach you, and we’ll let him know if we see him.”

“That’s not good enough,” Armitage snaps, smacking his hand down on the counter. “Give me his address, or his phone number.”

“There a problem out here, Finn?” the other owner, Poe, asks loudly, stepping out from the back room. He’s the same height as his partner, and he’s got a beautiful face, deep brown eyes and dark curly hair. Come to think of it, Armitage might have propositioned Poe at the Pride Festival, but it’s hard to say. He had a lot to drink.

“No problem,” Armitage tells him. “I’m just looking for my friend.”

Poe’s eyes narrow. “Kylo doesn’t need friends like you,” he says. “If we see him, we’ll tell him you stopped by.”

“I see I’ve made quite the impression on the two of you,” Armitage says with a sneer. “Fine. Don’t give me his contact information. But you could at least tell me where he’s likely to be right now.”

“No,” Poe says, crossing his arms. Armitage glares at him for a long moment, but he doesn’t break.

“Fine,” Armitage spits again. He whirls on his heel and stalks out of the shop. That was the worst fifteen dollars he’s ever spent.

But he’s not going to let this stop him.

He’ll find Kylo if he has to check every single shop in St. Augustine.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armitage finds Kylo - or, more accurately, Kylo finds him.

St. George Street must be a nightmare during holiday weekends, if it’s this bad on a random weekend in May. Armitage hikes the length of the pedestrian road, checking every shop he remembers, shoving past slow-moving masses of tourists in shorts and T-shirts and tank tops. He’s regretting dressing for home; his long slacks are starting to stick to his legs.

By the time he reaches the Colonial Quarter he’s covered in sweat and his eyes are sore from squinting in the sun. He also has no leads. His stomach is growling, but he’s decided he’ll eat later, at the airport, because eating now would take too long.

Unfortunately, when he passes the alleyway leading to the Pirate and Treasure Museum he is assaulted by delicious smells. The taverna on the corner is serving lunch, and it’s too distracting, too much. He flees into the shop across the way to clear his head and figure out what to do next.

The air conditioning is a relief after baking on the pavement for so long. He rubs the goosebumps on his arms and glances around at the tall glass shelves and low display cases lining the walls; they’re filled with jewelry and sculptures made of crystal. Armitage wanders deeper into the store, eyes trailing over pieces ranging from garish and tacky to surprisingly tasteful.

He’s examining a particularly fetching Swarovski cat when suddenly there’s a low voice at his ear. “So. You’re still here.”

Armitage has to force himself not to jump. “ _There_ you are!” he says, whirling around to stab an aggrieved finger into Kylo’s chest. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

“Really,” Kylo says, crossing his arms. He’s wearing board shorts again, red ones this time, and a sleeveless black shirt that puts his muscular shoulders and biceps on full display. “And you didn’t think to look under the blanket?”

“There’s no time for this,” Armitage says, moving his hand down to squeeze Kylo’s thick forearm. “I have to leave for the airport soon. We can go back to the hotel until then—” He glances at his watch. “Shit. It’s later than I thought. Do you live close by?”

“You left,” Kylo says, frowning. His arms are still crossed, but now his head is cocked to the side.

“I had to run an errand,” Armitage lies impatiently. “But I came right back, and  _you_ were gone.”

“You didn’t wake me up. You didn’t leave a note. You took all your stuff.”

“ _So_?” Armitage asks, checking his watch again. It’s nearing one o’clock. At this point he has barely over half an hour before he has to leave. If Kylo would just cooperate—

“It wasn’t a fucking errand,” Kylo says. “You obviously left the hotel for good. And now you’re trying to BS me.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Armitage says, exasperated. “I went to the airport. But then I came back. Don’t you want to fuck me again?”

Kylo shrugs Armitage’s hand off his forearm. He’s practically pouting; his fat lower lip is begging to be bitten and licked. “No.”

“Liar.” Armitage leans in. “You know you want to show me how angry you are with me. Don’t you.”

Suddenly Kylo is gripping him by the upper arms, dragging him forward, looming close. Armitage is certain he couldn’t escape Kylo’s vise-like hold even if he tried. Breath hot in Armitage’s ear, voice low and dangerous, Kylo growls, “You need to leave. Now. Before I break you.”

A delicious shiver runs the length of Armitage’s body. He pulls back to meet Kylo’s eyes, smiles at him slow and certain.

“I’d like to see you try.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armitage's goading of Kylo leads to an outcome he didn't expect in the men's room at Castillo de San Marcos.

Kylo drags Armitage by the upper arm out of the crystal shop, across the street and down the alley, ducking around a musician’s open guitar case and shouldering roughly through a group of tourists. It’s only when they reach the street—State Road A1A, the scenic highway that not only passes through St. Augustine but runs along the Atlantic up the entire length of Florida—that Armitage realizes where they are. They’ve just traversed Fort Alley, and Castillo de San Marcos lies directly ahead.

“I thought you were taking me home with you,” Armitage complains as they wait at the crosswalk for the light to change.

Kylo lets out an annoyed grunt, grips Armitage’s bicep hard enough to bruise, and hauls him across the street on red. The blare of car horns follows them up the sun-baked sidewalk to the ancient fort. When they reach the wooden outbuilding that serves as ticket booth, Kylo smiles at the cashier and says, “Two adults. It’s on him.”

Armitage glowers at Kylo. “This isn’t what we discussed.”

“Trust me,” Kylo says. Then he leans closer and murmurs hotly against Armitage’s ear, “I thought you wanted to get fucked?”

Armitage doesn’t stop glowering, but he does pull out his wallet.

They cross the bridge and move through the sally port, the cool stone entryway a brief respite before they’re back out in the blazing sun of the fort’s courtyard. Kylo steers Armitage to the right and marches him up the stone steps to the gun deck. As they cross the hot concrete and come to a stop at the northeast bastion, Kylo asks, “Remember this?”

Armitage squints at the row of cannon pointing to the Matanzas River and the sea beyond. Of course he remembers. He’ll never forget Brendol’s meaty hand gripping the back of his neck, forcing him to look at the cannon. Armitage turns away from them, hands on his hips, and surveys the open deck of the rest of the fort, which is teeming with tourists.

“We can’t very well fuck here,” he says. “What did you have in mind? Remember, I’ve not got a lot of time.” He looks at Kylo just in time to see those red lips flatten so much their color almost disappears. “We’ve wasted nearly ten minutes,” Armitage points out. “I’m going to have to leave directly for the airport and have the resort ship me my luggage.” He adds, “If you hadn’t left, we would have had plenty of time,” because it’s true.

Kylo takes a heavy step forward. “ _You_ left  _first_ , you  _fucking asshole_ ,” he says a bit too loudly, voice pitching high.  _Good_.

“Yes,” Armitage purrs, stepping close and trailing his fingers along Kylo’s collarbone. “You’re angry with me. Why don’t you give me what I deserve?”

“Fine,” Kylo growls, snatching Armitage’s wrist and stalking back to the stairs, yanking Armitage painfully after him. Armitage stumbles down the stairs, barely keeping his footing as he’s jerked along. His heart is pounding with anticipation, and he wonders if Kylo’s grip will leave bruises on his wrist. He hopes so.

When they reach the bottom of the staircase, Kylo wheels around and drags Armitage across the courtyard, straight into the men’s restroom. Not ideal, but Armitage will take it. They don’t really have time to go anywhere else.

There are a couple guys at the urinals, and the stalls are empty. Kylo glares until the men leave, then he unprops the door, letting it swing shut and sliding the deadbolt into place. “Strip,” he commands, the power in his voice sending a delicious shiver down Armitage’s spine.

Armitage undoes his button-down and shrugs it off. He hangs it neatly over a stall door, then toes off his shoes so he can step out of his khakis. As he slides his underwear down, he glances up at Kylo demurely.

“Slut,” Kylo hisses, and smacks him across the face. It stings beautifully; Armitage reaches up to touch the heated skin of his cheek, grinning. “Give me those,” Kylo says, pointing at Armitage’s briefs. Armitage hands them over, and Kylo immediately wads them up, grabs Armitage by the hair, and stuffs them into his mouth. “Bend over,” he says, yanking Armitage by the hair towards the sink at the end of the row.

Armitage trips forward, and the loss of balance causes Kylo’s fist to wrench his hair sharply. He grabs at the porcelain until he finds purchase, then shakily props himself up. He’s still wearing his socks, and the cool stone of the floor is bleeding through to his feet a little. Beneath his hands, the porcelain is cool too. His underwear tastes unpleasantly of his own sweat. He takes a long breath in through his nose, spreads his legs, and bends over, watching Kylo in the mirror.

Kylo’s face is a maelstrom. His lips are twisted and his eyes are twitching and he’s breathing heavily. As soon as Armitage has obeyed his command, he rears back with his free hand and gives Armitage a brutal spank, right in the middle of his arse. The blow is so powerful that Armitage’s whole body jolts forward and he almost loses his grip on the sink. Pain blossoms through Armitage’s tender hole and shoots up his spine like electric fire. He can’t help gasping, but breath doesn’t come easily through his mouthful of underwear. He groans and lets out a long huff through his nose.

Kylo spanks him viciously a second time, then just keeps spanking him, not giving Armitage any more time to recover. The strikes come immediately, one after the other, each one just as hard as the last, and all of them aimed right across the center of Armitage’s arse, where it hurts the worst. Armitage loses count after the fifth strike.

“You belong to me,” Kylo snarls, or at least that’s what Armitage thinks he’s saying. It’s difficult to focus. “I saw you. I chose you. You don’t get to just leave.”

Armitage’s arse is on fire and his legs are shaking and his eyes sting. He wonders, hazily, if he should be alarmed by Kylo laying claim to his person, but instead the thought is making his cock swell. Soon it’s hanging heavily between his legs, painfully hard, swinging up to smack his belly with every strike. He bites down on his underwear and whimpers.

“Mine,” Kylo starts saying with every spank. “Mine. Mine. Mine.”

Armitage has no idea how long it lasts. All he knows is that his entire body is quivering and covered in sweat. After an unknowable number of blows his shaking arms suddenly collapse beneath him; Kylo yanks him back by the hair before his face can crash into the sink.

Kylo wraps a big arm around Armitage’s middle, holding him against himself to keep him from falling to the floor. The texture of Kylo’s shorts is torture against the raw skin of his arse. Kylo moves his other hand from Armitage’s hair to his mouth, pulling the underwear free. “Who do you belong to, Armitage?”

Armitage tips his head back, resting it on Kylo’s thick shoulder. “Who do  _you_ belong to, Kylo?”

Kylo shakes him a little. “You’re  _mine_.”

“Then you’re mine,” Armitage says reasonably. It makes perfect sense. “And you’re so, so good, Kylo,” he adds.

Kylo lets out a small choked sound that vibrates against Armitage’s jaw. Armitage smiles and turns his head to bite gently at Kylo’s neck.

Suddenly there’s a pounding at the door, making the wood creak and the metal hinges rattle. “Open up!” someone outside yells.

“Shit,” Kylo hisses.

Armitage, arse aflame, body a quivering mess, thoughts a pleasantly hazy jumble, can only laugh.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the hazy aftermath of being brutally spanked, Armitage finds himself trundled off to Kylo's bed.

“He’s not feeling well,” Kylo says to whoever is standing outside the men’s restroom when the door swings open. Armitage isn’t looking; everything is pleasantly hazy, and he’s not thinking of much beyond the way his jaw and arse are throbbing, precious lingering evidence of Kylo’s need. Kylo is holding him up with one arm, his right; it’s wrapped around Armitage’s back, hand bracing the top of his ribcage. Armitage’s left arm is draped across Kylo’s shoulders, but he’s not holding on; he doesn’t have to. He just hangs there, body limp, head lolling. Kylo has him.

“Oh my god,” someone is saying. “I’ll call 911!”

“No,” Kylo snaps. “He’ll be fine.”

“Sir,” comes another voice, “we can’t let you—”

“I need to get him to bed,” Kylo interrupts loudly. “Get out of my way.”

Then they’re moving, Kylo practically carrying Armitage into the hot sun, then into cool darkness, then back out into the light again. The sound of the crowd fades away behind them.

Armitage belatedly latches onto what Kylo said. “Bed,” he repeats.

“That’s right, Armitage. Bed.”

Armitage is vaguely aware when Kylo pulls him into a vehicle, arranging him to lie on his stomach across Kylo’s lap. He’s definitely aware of Kylo’s hand patting, stroking, and lightly squeezing his arse, the contact a sweet torture. Kylo’s other hand is in his hair, big fingers combing through it over and over.

They’re like that for awhile, and then they’re not, Kylo shifting Armitage around to manhandle him out of the vehicle. Armitage has come back to himself enough to be mortified when Kylo stoops over and slings him over his shoulder.

“Kylo,” he warns, but Kylo just smacks his arse, sending waves of pain radiating through him that eclipse all other thought.

The next thing Armitage knows, he’s being settled onto a bed on his stomach. His shirt comes off—Kylo hadn’t rebuttoned it at the Castillo, just pulled his arms through—and then his trousers are being opened and slid down his legs. He’s not wearing his underwear; he’s not sure where they are.

Kylo’s hands grip his hips suddenly, yanking them off the bed, forcing his knees under him and his arse up. For a moment Armitage’s heart freezes in terror—it’s too much, he can’t—but then one of Kylo’s hands slides around his side, over his stomach, down to his cock. “Ready to come, Armitage?” Kylo asks quietly, and Armitage’s softened cock gives a violent twitch. “Almost,” Kylo answers himself, sounding smug. He starts pumping Armitage, working him steadily to full hardness. Armitage’s cock is stiff and leaking when Kylo informs him, “After you come, I’m going to come all over you,” and Armitage shudders and jerks and comes, cock pulsing hard in Kylo’s hand.

A soft grunt and a warm wetness spreading across his back and arse let Armitage know that Kylo has been true to his word. “Mine,” Kylo murmurs, falling to the bed beside him. A massive palm slides up and cups Armitage’s cheek.

The last thing Armitage is aware of is Kylo’s thick, rough thumb brushing gently over his cheekbone. Then sleep takes him.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time, Armitage and Kylo have a real conversation. Or at least, Kylo does...

It’s dark when Armitage opens his eyes. He’s naked, but he feels warm; he’s under a blanket, and there’s an arm slung across his middle, and there’s hot breath on his neck that, now that he’s awake, is tickling him enough to make him twitch. He raises his head off the pillow and blinks at the dim, unfamiliar room. Behind him, Kylo lets out an unintelligible mumble and pulls him closer, presses his lips to Armitage’s bare shoulder.

Armitage pushes himself up enough that he can turn over, opting to shift onto his stomach rather than chancing a roll onto his abused arse. He rolls onto his side beneath Kylo’s arm, gazes at Kylo’s face. He can just make out the intriguing planes of his cheek and jaw, the proud jut of his nose. His eyes are open and his lips are parted, tongue flicking out to wet them.

“Beautiful beast,” Armitage whispers, and kisses him.

This is how the morning should have gone—they should have awakened together. For the first time, Armitage feels a pang of regret.

“I want you,” Armitage says.

“Now?” Kylo asks, voice low and rough and a bit incredulous.

“Now, and later, and tomorrow, and the next day. All week. All month. Every day.” Armitage is babbling, he realizes; he closes his eyes and takes a long, stabilizing breath.

“Always,” Kylo says.

Armitage opens his eyes. “You chose me,” he says, remembering what Kylo said at the Castillo, before the beautiful haze set in.

“I chose you,” Kylo confirms. His big hand is on Armitage’s cheek again. “And I remembered, for all those years. I wanted revenge,” he says. His fingers flutter against the tender skin of Armitage’s cheek, a thrillingly deceptive whisper of a suggestion of his true strength. Armitage’s pulse pounds in his throat; he turns his cheek further into Kylo’s hand. “Mister Sn—my  _friend_ told me you deserved to be hurt. That if I ever saw you again, I had every right to hurt you.”

“I deserve to be hurt,” Armitage repeats quietly.

“But I don’t know if I can trust the things he said,” Kylo continues. His eyes are distant in the dark. “I trusted him for so long. I gave up everything. He wanted me to give up everything. But now he’s gone, and I don’t have anything at all.” Kylo lets out a frustrated huff. “He wanted me to hate everything I ever loved. And I did. And it’s all gone.”

 _Loved_ , Armitage thinks but does not say aloud. His chest is tight.

“ _I_  deserve to be hurt,” Kylo says in a rush. “I’ve done—things—and I’m still—I hurt you.”

“You did,” Armitage agrees, the words coming out impossibly calm and soft. “Will you hurt me again?”

Kylo squeezes his eyes shut. “I don’t know.”

Armitage tips his forehead against Kylo’s. Their noses brush. He can feel his blood, all of it, pumping hot and insistent through every part of his body. “What if I want you to?” he whispers.

Kylo’s hand tightens over Armitage’s cheek and jaw, big fingers digging in, and this time, it’s painful. “I could kill you.”

“But you won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

Armitage kisses him, lightly. “I do, though,” he says. “I do. You won’t kill me. You’ll do what I say.”

Kylo lets out a long, tremulous breath. “I—I don’t—”

Armitage kisses him again. “Shh,” he says, and then he throws back the blanket, crawls out from under Kylo’s arm, and settles himself comfortably between Kylo’s legs. He gazes up the length of Kylo’s body, sliding his hands up Kylo’s thick thighs. “You will,” he says, and then he takes Kylo’s cock into his mouth.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is their dynamic? Even they don't know.

The salty tang of precome hits his tongue just as Kylo suddenly blurts, “Condom.” Armitage snorts dismissively and pushes forward to take Kylo deeper, but then Kylo is sitting up, grabbing him by the hair, pulling him off. Armitage hollows his cheeks, attempting to keep Kylo’s cock in his mouth, but it slips noisily and sloppily between his wet lips. “I won’t let you regret this,” Kylo says, loosening his hold on Armitage’s hair but not letting go.

“I won’t,” Armitage retorts, but Kylo stretches toward the table next to the bed, pulls open a drawer and rummages through it one-handed. Armitage takes the opportunity to look around—at least, as well as he can with Kylo gripping him by the hair. It’s dark enough that he still can’t see much of the room, just the bed and the side table and the suggestion of walls. “Where are we?” he asks.

“My place,” Kylo says. His free arm swings back, a couple condoms between two fingers and a bottle of lube in his palm. “Put one on me.”

Armitage doesn’t move to take any of the unnecessary items. “It won’t feel as good as just my mouth,” he sing-songs.

Kylo pulls Armitage forward roughly by the hair, until their faces are so close their breath is mingling. In the low light, Armitage can just make out Kylo’s eyes, dark and intent. “Stop being a brat,” Kylo half-says, half-growls. “You were the one who wanted protection.”

“Does that mean you didn’t?” Armitage asks slyly. He leans forward to brush his lips across Kylo’s, just enough to make Kylo shudder. As soon as he does, Armitage moves his mouth away, reaching back and sliding his hands up Kylo’s spread thighs. He circles his thumbs closer and closer to Kylo’s cock, watching Kylo’s face.

Kylo huffs, squirms a little, glances to the side. “I wanted whatever you wanted,” he says finally, sounding a bit strangled.

Armitage’s hands still against Kylo’s skin. “And now?” he asks in a low voice.

Kylo hasn’t let go of Armitage’s hair. He draws a long breath, then tugs Armitage’s head backward, forces it down between his own legs, and shoves the lube and condoms in Armitage’s face. “Now,” he says, “I don’t trust you. Put a condom on me, Armitage.”

Armitage’s cock throbs. Kylo is so different from how he was at the hotel. He was so obedient then, going to extraordinary lengths to do what Armitage wanted. This is something else. Armitage should probably be irritated that Kylo’s not doing what he says, but the grip on his hair is too disarming, the pressure at the back of his skull too dominating, the finality in Kylo’s voice too thrilling. It’s all making Armitage’s heart pound, his cock steadily fill out.

Without further protest, Armitage plucks one of the condom packets from between Kylo’s fingers. He tears it open, unrolls the condom a little, puts the tip in his mouth, and holds it to the roof of his mouth with his tongue. Briefly, he glances up to see Kylo staring at him, jaw slack. Then Armitage descends upon Kylo’s stiff, enormous dick, unrolling the condom using only his lips as he takes the full length into his throat.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Kylo breathes. His fingers fall free of Armitage’s hair and he settles back heavily on his elbows. Armitage looks up at him through his eyelashes, holds Kylo’s cock in his throat for as long as he can before he absolutely has to breathe. Then he draws off slowly, until he’s just holding the head in his mouth, and begins to gently suck.

He’s pleased when Kylo’s hips twitch upward almost immediately. Kylo lets out a long groan, and Armitage can just make out his big fingers twisting in the bedsheets. He doesn’t torture Kylo long, swallowing him down again and pulling back faster this time, setting a languid but steady pace. Kylo huffs out a moan every time his dick enters the tight clutch of Armitage’s throat. It’s intoxicating.

When Kylo comes, his entire body shakes and he practically shouts. Smug, Armitage pulls off and crawls back up beside him. It takes Kylo a moment, but he finally gets the condom off, ties it, and tosses it over the edge of the bed. Armitage gazes at the heavy rise and fall of Kylo’s chest, drawing his fingers through the sweat on Kylo’s stomach. His own cock is still hard, but he doesn’t feel the urgent need to do anything about it.

“If you killed me,” Armitage says, his voice raspy, “you’d never get to come like that again.”

Kylo lets out what can only be described as a whine and turns his face away.

Armitage leans up to cup Kylo’s cheek, turn his head back. “You won’t kill me,” he assures Kylo again, meeting his eyes.

“I didn’t do what you said,” Kylo mutters.

“No,” Armitage concedes. He pats Kylo’s cheek. “But you won’t kill me. I’m yours, aren’t I?”

Kylo hums, a low rumble in his chest that builds quickly into a growl. He pulls Armitage’s body close, pressing Armitage’s cock tight between them. “Yes,” he agrees, hand splayed wide over Armitage’s hip. “You’re mine.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Armitage to wake from this dream.

Armitage doesn’t want to wake up. He’s been having the most pleasant dream, and it will all go away if he opens his eyes.

But it’s happening, slowly. He’s becoming aware that he’s lying on his stomach, cheek squashed into a pillow; that there’s a soft but growing light behind his eyelids; that he’s apparently kicked off the blanket and sheet in his sleep; and oh, that he’s naked. He doesn’t normally sleep naked, but perhaps that change in routine is what gave him the nice dream.

He doesn’t want to wake up, but the day has started. He needs to open his eyes, get out of bed—

A big, warm hand comes down on his shoulder, glides down his back. Armitage groans with pleasure. Fuck it, he thinks. Let the dream continue.

“You awake?” asks a sleep-low voice at his ear.

“I don’t want to wake up,” Armitage says into what is certainly an empty room. He doesn’t remember getting home, or even how the flight was. His alarm hasn’t gone off yet, so he probably has more time before he has to get ready for work. But consciousness isn’t just creeping in anymore; he’s basically awake now.

Once Armitage opens his eyes, it’ll all be over. Kylo will be gone.

“Don’t go,” he says stubbornly.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Kylo says.

Armitage huffs out a laugh. “Liar,” he says. It’s time to move past this fantasy, get back to real life. He forces his eyes open.

Kylo gazes at him from across the pillow. Sunlight is streaming in across the bed from a picture window Armitage doesn’t recognize, limning Kylo’s shining black hair in gold. “I’m not going anywhere,” Kylo says again, and he moves his hand lower, cupping Armitage’s arse.

His skin is so hot the contact burns, and Armitage groans at the delicious soreness, pushing his arse back into Kylo’s hand on instinct. “Fuck,” he says, eyes fluttering shut. “This is the best dream I’ve ever had.”

Kylo laughs and gives his arse a sweetly painful squeeze. “So,” he says, “do you need to call anyone?”

“Call?” Armitage stretches languorously, eyes still closed.

“Back home. To tell them you won’t be coming back.”

“I’m already…” Armitage goes still. The words die on his lips. His eyes fly open and he pushes up onto his elbows, looks frantically around the strange room. “What time is it?”

Kylo rolls toward a nightstand on his side of the bed. “It’s 10.”

“Ten o’clock…in the morning,” Armitage repeats slowly. “And…and what day?”

“Friday,” Kylo says. He rolls back toward Armitage, kisses his shoulder. “I want to fuck you,” he murmurs.

“I missed my flight,” Armitage breathes. “I didn’t go home. I’m still here.”

“Of course you are,” Kylo says, a mild note of reproach in his voice. “You’re mine.” He kisses Armitage’s shoulder again, then bites down gently with his teeth, sucking at the skin.

“I—shit—” Armitage pushes away from Kylo, rolls onto his side, sits up, winces. “Where’s my phone?”

“Your stuff’s over there,” Kylo says, waving vaguely toward Armitage’s side of the bed. Armitage looks around until he finally locates his trousers and shirt, in a rumpled pile in the middle of the floor surrounded by what must be most of Kylo’s clothes.

Armitage stands on shaky legs, staggers over to the pile, stoops to retrieve his trousers. His wallet and phone are still safely in the pockets, but when he pulls out his phone and activates the screen, it’s filled with notifications. “Shit.” The phone rings just as he’s unlocking it; he fumbles and almost drops it. “Yes,” he says, too loudly, clutching the phone to his ear.

“Hux. I’ve been trying to get you all morning. Where in blazes are you?”

“Peavey,” Armitage says, scowling, wishing he’d paid attention to the caller ID.

“They’ve moved the meeting,” Peavey says. “Did your invite not update?”

“I—no,” Armitage says, latching on to the useful cover story. Truth be told, Peavey probably personally ensured that Armitage didn’t get the latest invite. Armitage may as well make use of his hostile subordinate’s little ploy. “Where’s the meeting now?”

As expected, the new meeting location is too far from the original location for anyone to make it from one to the other in time to attend. Perfect. Armitage tells Peavey to extend his regrets to the other SVPs. “Oh, and Peavey? Something’s just come up, so I won’t be able to make it back to the office today. I’ll see you on Monday, old chap.”

He’s still giggling at his word choice— _something’s just come up_ —when he crawls back into the bed next to Kylo. He doesn’t notice the look on Kylo’s face until he tries to latch his mouth onto one of Kylo’s nipples and Kylo doesn’t let him. He looks up—“What,” he starts to say—and his breath catches in his throat.

“What did you mean, you’ll see him on Monday?”


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armitage makes Kylo mad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags have been updated.

Kylo is angry. The look on his face sends a sudden, heavy throb straight through Armitage’s dick. It’s ludicrous to think that this gorgeous beast of a man is threatened by a miserable old fuck like Edrison Peavey...but it’s also thrilling. “At work,” Armitage tells him, a bit loftily. “I see him there every day.”

Kylo growls and rolls on top of Armitage, pinning him down. “Not anymore,” he says.

Armitage laughs. “It would be hard to avoid him; he’s one of my VPs.”

“You’ll never see him again,” Kylo says. “You’re mine.” His intent brown eyes glimmer with gold in the yellow morning sunlight. He leans in, bites at the skin of Armitage’s throat, and murmurs a promise: “You’re never leaving me again.”

Armitage’s heart seizes in his chest. Two long seconds later it’s hammering against his ribs, pulse pounding in his wrists and neck.

His cock throbs with every heavy beat of his heart.

Armitage licks his lips. “I have to go home,” he says, partly because he does, of course he does...but mostly because he wants to see how Kylo will react.

“No,” Kylo says. “You know better now. You said it. You’re mine.”

Kylo begins sucking and biting a spot high on Armitage’s neck, worrying it hard with his teeth. There will be a mark, Armitage thinks. Everyone will be able to see it.

Armitage wants them to.

“Will you keep me?” Armitage asks. “Chain me up so I can’t escape?”

“If that’s what you want,” Kylo says. “And you do, don’t you?” He raises up on his elbows. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll give you what you want. I’ll give you everything you want.”

“Will you punish me if I try to get away?” Armitage licks his lips again. “Will you use me?”

Kylo drags his distinctive nose up Armitage’s cheek and along his cheekbone. “Yes,” he promises.

Armitage shifts his hips up against Kylo’s, bucking into the hard line of Kylo’s cock. “Show me how you’ll use me.”

“So you’re going to try to leave me again?” Kylo asks, his voice low.

“Yes,” Armitage says.

“Because you know I’ll catch you.”

Armitage groans. His arsecheeks are tingling and his hole has never been this sore. “Fuck me,” he demands.

Kylo has rolled him onto his stomach almost before he realizes it, fingers sliding down his crack and probing dry against his entrance. It burns more than he expected. Armitage whimpers and his arse clenches reflexively. “This slut hole belongs to me,” Kylo says. “It always has.”

“Show me,” Armitage says. Hot throbbing radiates out from where Kylo is touching him, sending sparks up his spine, tingles out to his fingertips. His heart is exploding in his chest, blood roaring in his ears. “Show me what I deserve.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armitage learns a few new things about Kylo.

Kylo doesn’t use a condom, and he doesn’t use lube. He presses Armitage into the bed with one heavy hand on his lower back and holds his arsecheeks open with the other hand. He spits on Armitage’s hole, slicks it around with his fingers, and pushes his bare cock into Armitage in a single long stroke.

His skin is soft and velvety and it probably feels nicer than a condom would, but the friction hurts like a bitch so the comparison doesn’t much matter. Armitage’s cock is rock hard, squeezed between his stomach and the mattress, and he can’t do anything about it—Kylo’s lying over his back, cock buried deep, and his sheer weight has Armitage so thoroughly pinned that it’s hard to breathe. His arms are free, but they feel useless and spindly as his hands scrabble in the sheets.

“That what you wanted?” Kylo grunts at Armitage’s ear.

“I wanted,” Armitage grits out petulantly, pain be damned, “to be fucked.”

Kylo lets out a frustrated growl and pushes up on his hands. Before Armitage can even take a full, uninhibited breath, his face has been slammed down into the bed by a hand on the back of his neck. Armitage twists his head to the side as best he can, managing to free one nostril, and looks up at Kylo out of the corner of one eye.

He’s a monster, a beast, enormous, thick mane of black hair hanging messy around his flushed face. Armitage can’t make his eyes out, really, but he can see the bright, bright red of his lips, so red, as if they’re painted in blood. Like Kylo is a creature feasting on its latest kill.

Maybe he is. Maybe Armitage has been eaten alive. Maybe there’s nothing left of him.

But of course that’s not true.

“Do it,” Armitage says. “Do it.”

Kylo shoves Armitage’s neck down and slowly draws his dick out. The flare of the head bumps past Armitage’s rim and sets his nerves to screaming. He almost screams too, fire shuddering through his body.

Then Kylo thrusts back in, hard, too hard, and Armitage does scream, eyes burning.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like that,” Kylo huffs, pulling out and driving back in. “You like being used.”

“Yes,” Armitage sobs. It hurts so much. It hurts exactly right.

Suddenly a door slams open somewhere nearby. “Ben?” Armitage hears someone shout. It’s a masculine-sounding voice. “Are you okay?” Footsteps sound outside the door to Kylo’s room.

“God fucking damn it,” Kylo hisses. He slumps on top of Armitage and clamps a hand over Armitage’s mouth. “I’m fine!” he yells.

“I’m coming in,” the voice responds. Kylo barely manages to drag the blanket over both of them before the door swings open. Armitage can’t see anything; the blanket is covering his face.

“It’s really not a good time, Poe,” Kylo says, keeping his hand firmly against Armitage’s mouth. Poe—now Armitage recognizes the voice. It’s the handsome guy from the Flagler College shop. Armitage squirms a little. He wonders if Poe can see him, or if he’s completely hidden beneath the blanket and Kylo’s enormous body.

“I thought I heard a scream,” Poe says. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

“Everything’s _fine_ ,” Kylo says.

“Okay, well,” Poe says slowly, “while I’m here, I wanted to tell you: Finn and I met this tourist at the Pride Festival. He was a real dick. Kept coming on to me even after we told him we were monogamous. Told me I should leave Finn.”

“Uh huh,” Kylo says. His tone sounds disinterested, but his hand is tightening over Armitage’s face.

“The thing is, then he came looking for you in the shop yesterday. Claimed he knew you.”

“Oh,” Kylo says, shifting his hips slightly so that his cock drags inside of Armitage. Armitage can’t hold down a shaky whimper.

“Does he?” Poe asks, apparently not hearing. “Know you, I mean.”

“Redhead?” Kylo responds. His voice is low. Dangerous, like that first night in the hotel. Armitage’s heart freezes in his chest.

“Yeah, and tall, maybe as tall as you. Skinny, though.”

“Yeah, I know him,” Kylo drawls. “You’re right. He _is_ a dick.”

Armitage’s eyes widen. He wishes he could actually see.

“What do you want us to say if he comes looking for you again?”

Kylo laughs. “Don’t worry. He won’t. He already found me.”

“And you’re okay?”

“I’m _fine_ , Poe.”

“Okay, if you say so.” Poe pauses. “I just worry about you, is all. You’re like my brother.”

“There’s nothing for you to worry about. Can I get back to what I was doing now?”

Kylo must give Poe a meaningful look, or Poe must have some idea of what’s happening under the blanket, because he laughs nervously, says, “Oh, sure!” and closes the door. Kylo doesn’t remove his hand from Armitage’s mouth until the footsteps recede.

“I saw you doing that,” Kylo murmurs.

“Doing what?” Armitage croaks. He tries to clear his throat.

“Hitting on Poe.”

“Wait,” Armitage says, confused. “You were there?”

“Of course I was,” Kylo hums. “I’ve been there the whole time.”


End file.
